The Association for Diplomatic Studies and Training

Foreign Affairs Oral History Program

Foreign Service Spouse Series

MILDRED TEUSLER RINGWALT

Memoirs of a Foreign Service Officer’s Wife 1938-1958

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Mrs. Ringwalt was born Mildred Minor Teusler in Tokyo, Japan of American parents.

She married her husband, Foreign Service Officer Arthur Rumney Ringwalt, in 1938 and

accompanied him on his assignments in Washington, D.C. and abroad.

Background

Born in Japan in 1907

Married Foreign Service Officer Arthur Rumney Ringwalt in 1938

Peking (Peiping), China 1938-1941

Journey via ship and Trans-Siberian Railroad

World War II begins

En route via Germany

Jewish plight in Budapest

Theft of documents in Strasburg

Moscow

Mukden

Housing and staff

Carpet buying

Mrs. Frank Lockhart

Bandits

Protocol problems

Chinese foundling home

Japanese occupation

Peking Union Medical Center

Pony and camel racing

Health and Sanitation

Japanese conquerors

Children

Japanese language facility

Mounting US-Japan war threats

Evacuation to Shanghai

Daughter (Mary Stuart) scarlet fever scare

Return to Richmond, Virginia

Richmond, Virginia 1941-1943

Resided in Richmond while husband was in Chunking, China

Predictions that Chiang Kai-shek would lose to Mao-Tse-tung

Signators of Chunking Embassy telegram

McCarthy witch-hunt

Washington, DC 1945-1948

Newport, Rhode Island 1948-1949

Housing

Environment

London, England 1949-1957

“China hands” and McCarthyism

War devastation

Housing

Children

Household staff romances

Palace Garden Party

Social protocol

Princess Margaret

Ball for the Queen

Russian Embassy lunches

House burglary

“one penny per pee”

Coronation of Queen Elizabeth

Sir Edmund Hillary

Mrs. Aldrich’s wives’ meetings

Bunny Hibberd

Volunteer for CARE

Kingston, Jamaica 1957-1959

Environment

Protocol responsibilities

Climate

Security

Household help

Entertaining

Race prejudice

Impressions

INTERVIEW

From beginning to end, my life with Arthur as the wife of a Foreign Service Officer was

exhilarating, challenging, and full of adventure. I shall start at the beginning. We met in

Washington, DC, at the home of a mutual friend who was a colleague of Arthur’s in the

State Department. We were immediately drawn to one another because of our common

interest in the Far East. Arthur was on leave from his assignment as a Chinese language

student in Peking, China, and I was born and brought up in Japan where my father,

Rudolf Teusler, was founder and director of St. Luke’s International Hospital.

Arthur drove me back to my apartment in Washington, and the next morning I was

overwhelmed with a gift of roses from him. The flowers kept coming, and I was dined

and courted. On my return to Richmond, Virginia, where I lived with my aunt and

mother, I shared my interest in Arthur with them. They insisted that before things went

any further, it was imperative that we find out something about this young man.

Accordingly, we wrote to Mrs. Woodrow Wilson, my cousin, who was living in

Washington and was a close friend of all my family. She made discreet inquiries through

the head of the Department of State who then turned her letter over to his assistant. The

letter was handed down from hand to hand until it reached the China desk, and there it

was turned over to Arthur!

Needless to say, an excellent report of the young man was given which was then sent off

to my cousin Edith and mailed to us. We were married in June and my cousin Edith was

there, as well as all of Arthur’s approving friends in the State Department. Jim Penfield,

our host on the first occasion that Arthur and I met, was his best man.

We went to Farmington Club near Charlottesville for a weekend honeymoon, and the first

person to greet us on our arrival there was Jim. He and some of his friends had registered

for a weekend there, having no idea we would show up! I, for one, was disappointed

when we learned they all left early the next morning. I thought it would have been fun to

celebrate with them.

We had to return to my aunt’s house on the Monday as Arthur was to go back to

Washington for some unfinished business on Tuesday. The following day, Arthur called

me in the afternoon to ask if I could get ready to go to Peking via Europe and the trans-

Siberian railroad, stopping over for a ten-day assignment in Moscow...by Saturday. Of

course I could! I was absolutely thrilled, and all my family pitched in and helped to get

me ready.

In those days we didn’t fly but went leisurely by boat. The entire trip was an extended

honeymoon until one morning in September. Having breakfast with Arthur in the

courtyard of our Chinese house, served by Arthur’s Number One Boy, Young, Arthur

picked up the morning paper as I was about to say something, and I realized the

honeymoon was over. (Transcriber’s note: It is assumed that Mrs. Ringwalt means that

the newspaper held some bad news presumably relating to the start of World War II, not

that her bridegroom was ignoring her in Dagwood fashion by reading the paper!)

On the way to our new home we had celebrated some beautiful days with my two sisters

and brother-in-law in England and some heart wrenching days in Budapest, meeting many

desperate Jewish people, some of them wearing the Star of David, and staying at different

places every night trying to get out. The American Consul looked drained and exhausted

and told us he could hardly force himself to go to the Embassy each day where he had to

turn away so many desperate Jews. All were expected to raise their arms and “Heil

Hitler!” I refused. We took a Jewish doctor to a restaurant for dinner. He was having to

wear the Star of David, but he, too, refused to “Heil Hitler!” I telephoned St. Luke’s in

Tokyo and asked if they would give him a position there. They agreed readily to do so,

but then we lost contact with him. I have never known whether he got out.

We had some bad experiences. In Strasburg, we decided to visit a famous monastery on

the border between Germany and France. It was a fascinating place where many people

went on pilgrimage. We spent the day there. Walking down the hill on our way to the

train to take us back to Strasburg, we stopped for a few minutes to rest on the side of a

hill. We both fell asleep and discovered, on awakening, that our carrier bag with our

diplomatic passports and visas had been snatched up. We went back to the monastery and

broadcast an appeal for their return, but finally as the monastery closed, we had to leave.

We were both stunned by what had happened.

Arthur reported the theft to the Consulate that night and went straight there first thing in

the morning. We offered a reward for its return and finally, early in the afternoon, he

showed up with our bag and all its contents intact! Later, we met with the man who

claimed he had found it, but we suspected he was the person who stole it.

Six months later, when we were established in Peking, he wrote to us demanding more

money and, if we did not comply, threatened he would write to the State Department in

Washington and expose the incident. We did not respond and never heard from him

again. From that time on, we wore a leather case suspended from our shoulders wherever

we went.

One evening I well remember in Berlin. We attended a beer garden in a large hall after

dinner where there were many Nazi youths drinking, jumping on the table, and shouting

Nazi slogans. Although they paid no attention to us, we were very uncomfortable and did

not stay long. Although they were in good spirits, we realized there was something

sinister about what was happening there. We had no idea of the evil that would be

perpetrated on the Jews within the year.

We stayed in Warsaw for a few days before starting on our trip to Moscow by the trans-

Siberian railway. As we waited to board the train, our passports and visas were

scrutinized. When we were about to board, an official informed us that we would not be

permitted to take that train, which was destined for a long stopover in Moscow, since our

visas were not valid. We were bewildered. They were adamant. Just before the train

pulled out, I intercepted two Japanese couriers and asked them in Japanese, please to

notify our Embassy of our predicament. This they did on arrival in Moscow, but the

Embassy was unable to reach us by phone.

In the meantime, we were told that there was a room available upstairs for us and that we

could use it overnight and depart on a train the following morning that stopped at

Moscow for only a short time before going on to Manchuria. A Jewish couple, who were

escaping from Austria and who were also not allowed to disembark in Moscow were told

they could not use the upstairs rooms. They, too, would be allowed to take the morning

train, but would have to spend the night in the waiting room. Arthur and I were outraged

at our preferential treatment and said we would prefer to spend the night in the waiting

room than to abandon our friends.

After some palaver, the station master decided to allow them to go upstairs after all, and

we proceeded to go up together. There were two soldiers on guard upstairs. We had

prepared some sandwiches to eat on the train, and these we shared with our new-found

friends while we talked about their predicament in having to flee from their homeland.

This was during the time Chamberlain was meeting with Hitler for appeasement. The

results as yet had not been broadcast.

The following morning, we all boarded the train, and I was glad to leave the place where

we felt like virtual prisoners. On arrival in Moscow, two men got on our coach and came

over to our section. They put Arthur between them and took him off. I was wondering

what would happen next when they reappeared and asked me to collect all our luggage

and they would take me off the train. They told me they were from our Embassy, and I

was vastly relieved. There was no interference, and we left the station as the train pulled

out. The Soviet authorities refused for several days to give us permission to stay in

Moscow, but finally they broke down and gave us our visa. The whole episode was

manufactured because there was bad feeling between the Americans and the Soviets, and

they deliberately set about harassing us.

Alexander Kirk was the Ambassador and was living in the Embassy residence. We stayed

in his apartment where he lived before he was appointed as number one. I had known

Alex from my childhood days in Tokyo when he was a secretary at the Embassy. He gave

us a most sumptuous dinner at the Embassy a few days after we arrived there, my first

diplomatic dinner and one of the most enjoyable of all those further down the line.

We were very comfortable in our apartment where we had our meals prepared by a

Russian woman who came in every evening with her baby. I looked after the child while

she produced the dinner. We thoroughly enjoyed one afternoon when we visited a

“dasha” owned by a member of the Embassy staff. I remember how beautiful the birch

trees were and how quiet and peaceful the country. We were free to mix with the crowds

in the street and to wander about wherever we wished. Arthur spent most of the time at

the Embassy in consultation, while I was busy noting and absorbing the feel of the place.

We, of course, visited Lenin’s tomb and were duly impressed.

Finally, we embarked on the seven-day trans-Siberian railroad to Mukden and were made

comfortable on the train in a small compartment. It was a long trip but a fascinating one.

The train stopped at many places, but we were never allowed to go beyond the limits of

the station. There was a constant stream of Russians getting on and off the train and many

different nationalities, mostly Soviet.

The most interesting part of the day was from two o’clock on when lunch was served in

the diner. We all ate together with the farmers and local people as well as the persons

who served us and took turns eating their meals with us. There was a great deal of

comradery and fellowship with no class distinctions. We, of course, could not understand

anything that was said, but we did appreciate the open way everyone related.

Finally, the day arrived when we reached Mukden. The American Consul General,

George Merrill, an old friend, met our train, and were we glad to be there. Our thoughts

centered on a hot bath and a bed that was steady and quiet. We could hardly wait, but

instead we were both taken to the guardhouse, I protesting loudly and vehemently all the

way. We were detained because we refused to give permission to the officials to inspect

our luggage since we were diplomatic and it was customary to extend this courtesy. We

really didn’t care and tried to persuade our friend, the Consul General, to give in. But he

was adamant. He said it would set a bad precedent unless we held firm to our position.

After a short interval with constant complaints coming from me, we won out and were

allowed to depart. We were somewhat relieved to learn that the Consul General had made

a previous appointment for dinner that night, so Arthur and I had a very good dinner

served to us and then enjoyed a wonderful night in real beds.

We arrived the following day in what was then called Peking and were met by the Chief

of Staff, Frank Lockhart, by other colleagues of Arthur’s and by Young, his former

Number One boy. We spent that night in the stable of a temple which was to be our home

for almost two years; longer for Arthur. My good friend, Elsie Grew Lyon, was the

previous occupant and had left shortly before we arrived.

Actually, there was space available in an apartment in the Embassy compound guarded by

Marines twenty-four hours, but we fell in love with the beautiful tiled temple and we both

agreed it was where we wanted to be. There was an outer courtyard guarded by an old

man who, I suspected, smoked opium most of the time, and a small apartment occupied

by someone in the Information Service. Our house was through a door leading into an

inner courtyard with a small reflector pool in the center dominated by a four foot figure of

Mercy in white marble. Years later, in 1940, when all the women and children were

evacuated from China because of impending war and I had departed, one of our two chow

dogs fell into the pool before Arthur heard all the wild barking from its mate and rushed

over and pulled Folly out.

We were enchanted with our temple home with its green tile roof and its lovely carvings.

There were fireplaces in every room which was our only source of heat during the winter

months, but we employed thirteen people, and one of these did nothing else except keep

the fires going. Someone else did the laundry, and we had a cook and an assistant cook. I

foolishly replaced Young after we had been there for some months, because I was told he

would be loyal only to Arthur, not to me, and because I discovered he was accepting

bribes. But then, they all did! That was the accepted pattern, and we learned to live with

it.

A few weeks after our arrival in Peking, Mrs. Frank Lockhart, whose husband was

Chargé of the Embassy in the absence of the Ambassador, and two other Embassy wives

decided to take a day’s trip by train to a carpet factory where some very beautiful rugs

could be purchased. It was somewhat risky to undertake this because bandits all too often

blasted the trains and kidnapped the passengers or shot them. The group was not

enthusiastic over my joining them because I was pregnant, but I was very eager to go and

prevailed on them to include me. We had an uneventful trip for which we were all very

thankful. It was well worth the risk for we commissioned many very beautiful carpets. At

that time, the exchange was $20 for one American dollar. My daughter still luxuriates in

the lovely carpets I gave her. I thought it was the least I could do after exposing her to the

risks involved.

When we were able to get away from our active social life, Arthur and I loved to go to the

Western Hills outside Peking. The bandits were in control of many parts of the country

during the Japanese occupation, and we were discouraged from going to that area. There

had been kidnappings and disappearances, but the country was so lovely, we could not

resist. We walked through many deserted villages where residents must have fled on very

short notice with many of their possessions left behind. We could hear shooting and

bombing in the distance, so we were not able to venture too far afield. Fortunately, we

were not molested, and towards the end of my second year in Peking, we were forbidden

to go to the Western Hills.

Several months after we had settled, I gave a lunch for some of the Embassy wives and

other friends who had entertained me. Arthur and I went carefully over the seating

arrangements so that each of my guests would be seated exactly where she should be. The

wives of diplomats always took precedence and, accordingly, I placed Lady Chase, a

widow whose husband was not a diplomat, in the middle of the table. Lady Chase was an

old-timer in Peking who lived in a beautiful old temple where she “received” every other

week in style. At the entrance, guests were met by her Number One boy, who ushered the

visitors through countless halls with many extraordinary carvings into the inner sanctum

where there were more liveried servants and Lady Chase herself, a most gracious hostess.

Tea and cakes were passed around, and then we said “goodbye” and stepped back into the

present.

I liked Lady Chase, although after awhile her parties bored me, so I was utterly

unprepared for what happened at my ladies’ party. We were all about to sit down when I

heard Lady Chase’s plaintive cry, “You are not going to seat me here, are you?” There

was a dreadful silence. “Well, yes, I did plan to,” I said. What else could I say? There was

silence, and then I asked one of the ladies who was seated higher up if she would mind

exchanging her seat for Lady Chase’s. She readily agreed. To this day, I have never been

clear as to how I should have responded. I do well remember that Arthur, who was at the

time sick in bed with the flu, was very comforting and supportive of me when I rushed

into his room in tears after my guests had left.

Shortly after our arrival in Peking, Frank Lockhart, acting Chief of Staff, and his wife

invited us to a welcoming party at their house in the Embassy compound. Imagine my

embarrassment when halfway through the party one of the guests gently pointed out that

hanging from my belt behind me was a large bunch of keys. These were essential because

everything had to be under lock and key, as was the case many years later in Kingston,

Jamaica. I removed them and dropped them in my purse, but it gave us all a good laugh.

Some of the Embassy wives were interested in a Chinese foundling home, supported by a

Mission, where conditions were absolutely appalling. There was a turntable basket set in

a corner of the building on a side street where mothers placed their babies. A little push

and the table would turn to the inside where the babies, presumably, were received and

given proper care and affection. The tragedy was that there were so many babies and so

few staff that only the hardiest could survive the cold and neglect. It was a dreadfully

depressing place because there was so little we could do to help. The babies were

strangely quiet and unresponsive, because their cries were unheeded.

I remember arriving home one freezing afternoon from the nursery and seeing our little

girl, warm and loved, under a quilt I had especially made for her. The next time I went to

the nursery, I took the quilt, and Mary Stuart was just as warm and comfortable under one

of our coats.

The Japanese occupied China at that time, and birth control devices were forbidden.

There was a courageous Chinese doctor practicing at the Peking Union Medical Center, a

Rockefeller Foundation Hospital, who made herself available for this information. She

urged quietly and secretly to send her as many women as we could persuade to go, but we

had few successes. It was too risky. Later, I heard that the foundling center was taken over

by an American organization, which the Home was desperately trying to bring about.

Then war broke out, and I have never known what happened to that pitiful foundling

home.

Arthur and I spent one Saturday at the race track outside Peking where there was an

annual competition attended by the business, military, and Embassy personnel in horse

racing, camel riding, etc. A friend, who could not attend at the last minute, persuaded me

to ride her pony in one of the races. I had some strong reservations, but I agreed although

I had never been in a race. It was all very professional with the weighing-in process and

extra weights put on my pony because I was so slight. Then I found myself at the starting

line with the sound of the starting pistol. I was not prepared for the short, bumpy gait of

my little pony and did not take long to give my full attention simply to staying on! We

were next to the last at the finishing line, but at least I made it!

A short time later, I found myself on a camel which, when it stood up from a kneeling

position, lurched me backward and then threw me forward, so all I could do was to hold

on for dear life! A shot was fired, and off we went ... my camel boy tearing along with the

camel held by a rope. I was tossed about in every direction so I lost all my wits. I thought

it would never end! At least we were not the last.

Sometimes there were dreadful sandstorms when the sky would turn yellow and the

whole city would be covered with desert sand. Even with the windows closed, it covered

everything. Outside, it was sometimes difficult even to see. Fortunately, we had a staff of

thirteen and so we did not have to do the cleaning up.

Our temple house had no insulation whatsoever, and there were places that had cracks

large enough to see the dirt foundation. All kinds of insects wandered in, such as

scorpions and centipedes. One of the former was found over our baby’s crib, and many

times we discovered centipedes in the little tub where we bathed our baby. There was no

tub or shower, so we rigged one up which was quite satisfactory.

Our main problem was drinking water, which was not safe except in the Embassy

compound. We arranged for one of our staff of servants to fill several gallon bottles from

the Embassy compound whenever needed. The Embassy compound was about two blocks

from our house and was surrounded by a wall with a gate guarded by two Marines. We

had to give a pass to our coolie who went for the water, and in order to insure that he had

been there, he had to take the pass to Arthur at the office to sign. We had to be very

careful of the spread of disease in Peking since there were no regulations regarding public

health. Typhus, typhoid, scarlet fever, and cholera were prevalent.

Our second summer in Peking, cholera was epidemic, and preventive shots were given at

the rail road station. Arthur applied to go to Tokyo as a courier and learned that a man

had passed out the previous day on receiving his fourth injection in as many days. Many

people were afraid of the needle and were willing to pay the man for his pass in order to

escape having it done to them. (Transcriber’s note: A similar story is told by Elsie Lyon

concerning the number of injections her Japanese nursemaid was forced to endure so the

family could travel.)

We found a lovely place on the ocean to go for our vacation in the summer at Beidahoe,

and after Arthur and other friends had returned to Peking, I stayed another few days.

There were just the three of us...our eighteen month old baby, her Japanese nurse, and I in

our

comfortable house overlooking the ocean. We were quite nervous about being there

alone, however, as the Japanese were in occupation. Terrifying stories were circulated

about some of the things they did, and we felt isolated. We always ate an early dinner so

we could get to bed before dark to avoid lights. Sometimes we heard steps outside and

hoped the baby would be quiet, but it was unnerving, and I was relieved finally to arrive

safely home.

On the train going to Beidahoe there were several Japanese generals who were enchanted

with our baby, and I felt quite confident turning her over to their care when my attention

was needed elsewhere. There was a brutish side to them also. Once when Arthur and I

were walking along a road, some Japanese officers accelerated their car and would have

run us down if we had not jumped into a ditch. Apart from our anxiety over the behavior

of the Japanese conquerors, there was always the risk of being held up by bandits when

traveling by train. There were weekly reports of holdups and kidnapping, and we were

never quite sure we would make it.

Arthur and I spent our first vacation at Karuizawa in the mountains of Japan with my

mother and sister who were visiting there. On our return trip, we disembarked at Tanggu,

China, expecting to proceed by train to Peking with our baby. Fortunately, I went ahead

of Arthur and was outside the building when we heard over the loudspeaker that no one

would be permitted to leave. Someone in the milling crowd had suddenly become

violently ill with cholera, and all of us were, therefore, quarantined! We were told we

would have to go to a camp for observation for three weeks. I was horrified at the thought

of going through such an ordeal with our five-month old baby.

When the announcement was made, there were some ten to twelve persons, mostly

British, who happened to be outside the building with their friends and relatives from

Tanggu who had come to welcome them back from Japan. I joined this group, and

together we hired rickshaws and were taken to the British clubhouse on the outskirts of

the city. I could see Arthur gesticulating to me as we took off, but I did not dare wave to

him for fear of being forced to go back inside. The club was peaceful and quiet after the

confusion and noise of the harbor. Best of all, there were practically no flies, where (at

the station before) there had been dozens plastered on my baby’s face and hands. Every

fly could be a carrier of the dreaded disease.

The group conferred together and then decided to send our most distinguished member to

plead with the Japanese Consul to free those still being held in the building. That failed,

and I then volunteered to try, since I was born and brought up in Japan and spoke a little

of the language. As I passed the building where my husband was being held with many

others, he waved to me, but I did not dare to wave back. The Consul was expecting me

and politely listened as I explained how serious it was for everyone if we were not

allowed to leave. I told him of the anxiety we felt if the authorities continued to hold the

group in the building.

Suddenly he agreed that we could all go free, and I was raced back in the rickshaw to the

group at the club to tell them the good news. We had missed the train for Peking and we

had to wait a long time for the next. I spent the hours fighting flies, but it was such a

relief that our family was reunited that I could feel only gratitude.

In the late Summer of 1940, we were told that tensions between the U.S. and Japan were

mounting and that all Embassy and Consulate wives should be prepared to leave at a

moment’s notice. Each household received a notice suggesting that we prepare for two

possibilities: one for immediate departure with only two suitcases packed and ready to go;

the other, for a day’s notice with no more than four suitcases. It was unnerving to say the

least!

Then began the exodus of various Embassy wives, children and personnel. I was

especially upset when the British Embassy women left. Then came the distressing

morning when the Scottish guards, with their cheery and reassuring bagpipes, no longer

marched past our temple house as they had done faithfully every morning since our

arrival in Peking. Finally, the decision was made and the dreaded command went out.

Embassy and Consulate wives must set an example to the business community and be

amongst the first to leave. There was a ship waiting in Shanghai for all evacuees which

was to depart in two weeks.

I was prepared for the news, for my mother and sister had been evacuated from Tokyo

three weeks earlier. The day before I left Peking with our eighteen month old baby, I

received a phone call from the mother of a friend with whom my child had been playing

the previous day. Bad news! Her child had just been diagnosed as having scarlet fever! In

those days, this was a serious disease. (Recently, a doctor told me he would rather have

his child develop scarlet fever than to have a bad cold.) Anxiously and sorrowfully, Mary

Stuart and I said “goodbye” to Daddy and husband and took a boat to Shanghai from

Tanghu. It took about two days, and no lights were allowed after dark, so we ate early.

We arrived in Shanghai and went immediately to a hotel where I discovered that Mary

Stuart had a temperature of 104! Dismayed, I immediately called a doctor who obviously

suspected scarlet fever, but since she had not broken out with a rash, he advised me to

proceed with plans to leave the following afternoon with the others.

There was so much to do, and I arranged for an amah to look after the baby while I

attended to tickets and passport. It was dreadfully frustrating not to be able to

communicate with the amah, since I spoke a little Mandarin, which has no similarity

whatsoever to the Shanghai dialect. There was still no rash the following morning when

the doctor came. He explained that if she did get it during the day before the boat left, she

would have to be transferred to an infectious hospital and that I would not be allowed to

accompany her. We waited anxiously for the hours to pass until three o’clock when the

passengers prepared to board the ship. The doctor came after three and, since there was

still no rash, he gave me the wonderful news that we could board the ship after everyone

else had embarked. Each of us wearing masks, we were taken by car to the pier where a

motorboat was waiting to take us to the steamer. I was almost overwhelmed with a sense

of thankfulness as we were on our way.

We were rushed down to a suite which had been reserved for Mrs. Johnson, the wife of

the Ambassador, and her children. Mrs. Johnson occupied the bedroom half of the suite,

while we took the livingroom half. We were now safe, and I could give my full attention

at long last to my baby. That night, at dark, the siren blew and the ship slowly moved out

of the harbor. I looked out of my porthole and, to my surprise, the river was crowded as

far as I could see with boats, each with a lantern. These were the husbands, the brothers

and the friends of the many women on our ship. I could hear their voices singing

“goodnight, ladies” as they followed us down the river. I could imagine the tears and the

waving from the rails of the decks above me. It brought the imminence of war very close.

Mary Stuart was quarantined for only another day and a half, and then we were allowed

the freedom of the ship and dinner at the Captain’s table with Mrs. Johnson, her children

and other friends. The food was excellent and so was the service. Some of the wives had

never been exposed to the care of their children, who had been taken care of by amahs. I

shall never forget a conversation we had with our waiter midway on our voyage. Most of

the mothers, he observed, spent their mealtime trying to persuade their offspring to eat.

From every table we could hear, “Just one more bite, dear,” and “Please, for Mother’s

sake, another tiny bite” and “Come on, now, just open your mouth.” He went on to

explain that he had been brought up in eastside New York. In his family there was never

quite enough food and all the kids were always hungry. He felt our children were

deprived far more than he was, because there was so much anxiety connected with the

eating of food that they were no longer able to enjoy it! It was an important lesson for us

all in child-upbringing.

Three months later, (in 1941) my husband joined us on leave at my aunt’s house in

Richmond, Virginia. On December 7th, we drove to Washington to visit my sister who

had an apartment there. We were listening to a concert over the radio when, suddenly,

there was an announcement of an attack on our fleet. At that very same moment, we had

to go under the bridge. When we came out on the other side, the message had been given.

We did know something very serious had occurred, but not of the proportions of Pearl

Harbor!

It was not long before the terrible news came pouring in, and Arthur rushed over to the

State Department. It was devastating to me because I was born and brought up in Japan

and I loved it as my own country. Arthur returned in the evening to report that everyone

in the Department was in a state of shock and confusion and there wasn’t much he felt he

could do at that time. After a few days, we returned to my aunt’s home in Richmond,

making it our headquarters until we could foresee what the future held for us.

Less than a year later, when Arthur was assigned to the China desk at the State

Department, he received his orders, together with his best man at the wedding, Jim

Penfield, and other China hands. They were to fly to the American Embassy, housed in a

cave at Chungking, China. This happened shortly after our second child was born, and

sadly I dismantled our apartment in Washington and moved back to my aunt in

Richmond. We were separated for three years.

General Hurley was the American Ambassador at Chungking, and it was during one of

the Ambassador’s visits to Washington for consultation that a telegram came from his

staff, mostly drafted by John Service, and sent by George Acheson, John Carter Vincent,

Edmund Club and others to the Department of State. After discussion with Mao Zedong

in China, those who signed the telegram reported that, in the struggle being waged

between Chiang Kai-shek and the Communists, Chiang would lose. General Hurley saw

the telegram and was enraged. Later, during the McCarthy period, those who signed the

telegram were slowed or blocked in their careers. This was especially true for John

Service, who was dismissed and then reinstated as a result of a Supreme Court decision in

1957.

At the time of Arthur’s return to the U.S., the witch hunt of McCarthyism had not

surfaced or, if it had, Arthur did not talk to me about it. I had no idea of what was coming

and, therefore, did not feel threatened. We rented a house on Idaho Avenue and started all

over again having a life together; this time with two children. I learned to cook for the

first time and to heave coal on our erratic furnace in the basement. Ahead lay the happiest

of the over forty years we shared together, a year’s stint at the Naval War College at

Newport, Rhode Island. We rented a big, old house on the oceanfront and reveled in the

freedom and openness of life together as a family. Arthur liked his studies and the many

close friends we made at the College. It was a one year assignment, and in the Summer of

1949 we were transferred to London. One by one, the “China hands”, as they were called,

were subpoenaed by Senator McCarthy to appear before the Senate to answer charges of

Communist sympathies. Distanced from Washington as we were at the Naval War

College, I was not aware of the seriousness of the approaching condemnation and

persecution of the “China hands” through the McCarthy Senate hearings.

Looking back on that time, I realize that Arthur deliberately shielded me from his anxiety

about what the future might hold for us. He thoroughly enjoyed our relaxed family life at

Newport and was successful in preventing fear and concern to intrude. And so came the

Spring, and we both rejoiced in the news that we would have our third child in October.

Then, one evening in May, just returned from a trip to Washington for consultation,

Arthur told me we were to be transferred to London. I was thrilled. Both of my sisters

lived there, and it would be, in a way, like going home.

We decided to go straight from Newport to the ship and embark for our new post. Arrived

at Liverpool, we had a hard time finding our way to London what with the change of

driving on the left side and the fact that there were no direction signs anywhere. Although

the War had ended several years earlier, there was devastation everywhere ... churches,

schools and whole streets. Finally we reached Shepherd’s Park and, from there, the

Cumberland Hotel, where we stayed. It was a busy commercial hotel, but we were

comfortable even though we were offered only powdered eggs and erst sausage for

breakfast.

Arthur had explained to me that he was expecting to be called before the Senate and it

was decided to get us out of sight and, hopefully, out of mind before he was subpoenaed.

We were among the few who were fortunate enough to escape the tragic consequences of

the McCarthy inquisition. Arthur was ordered back to Washington to answer charges, but

Julius Holmes, his immediate superior at the Embassy with the rank of Minister, insisted

he could not possibly spare him. And that was that!

We stayed most of that long hot summer in London at the Cumberland Hotel, hoping that

eventually we would be able to move into an Embassy house. There was only one

possibility if we were turned down after many weeks of house hunting. It was a place in

the suburbs called Christmas House, and we were both charmed by the name. In the end,

we were assigned an Embassy house because of my pregnancy, although others were

ahead of us on the list.

It was a wonderful moment when Arthur came back to the hotel to tell me we had it.

There would be no more worries about locating a house and, once moved in, our

maintenance needs would be taken care of by the Embassy. We loved the house at

Golders Green in a quiet, sunny spot called Carlyle Close. We moved and settled in

quickly, and I was so glad to be enfolded once again in my own home, not just existing in

a hotel.

We were fortunate in being able to call upon Embassy maintenance people to make

repairs. There was a coal stove in the kitchen which had constantly to be attended to and,

consequently, covered everything with soot. It was moved to a storeroom outside with no

cost to us. Fortunately, I was able to hire a young Finnish girl, who wanted to learn the

language, to cook for us. She was pleasant and trustworthy and stayed with us almost the

entire seven years we were there. We were out many evenings at cocktail parties or

dinners, and it was essential to have someone responsible at home.

We also hired an Irish girl, May McGuerry, who was a “mother’s help” from Ireland who

came to London for dental work and was with us for a long time. One morning, a few

weeks after she had come, she looked out of my bedroom window and saw a young man

driving a tractor on the golf course. This was after we had moved out of our Carlyle Close

house to another Embassy house just a block away on the golf course. May told me she

had been watching the young man for some time and liked him. Quite gravely and

smiling, she said she was going to marry him! This seemed a little precipitous, but I

readily went along with her strategy.

The next morning, when Ronnie Tractor -- as we called him -- came toward me driving

his tractor, I was standing by the golf course with my son, Christopher, in my arms. May

was behind me. I waved to Ronnie Tractor to come and was greeted by a tall, handsome,

and shy young man with curly hair. I asked him if he would mind taking my child for a

ride on his tractor. At this point, May stepped forward and took Christopher from me. Off

they went, and that was how it began!

They saw each other constantly during that year, but he would never pop the question. I

really could not blame him. He enjoyed what he was doing and did not want to change

while May was urging him to go into training to be a policeman. Another year went by

with nothing happening, and May persuaded me to have Arthur talk with him as to his

intentions with May. I even made Arthur wear his best suit, and poor Ronnie was finally

hooked. He never did make it as a policeman, but they were married, and the last time I

visited them, May was expecting her second child and quite content.

Then there was Hilda who came from Switzerland. She was a model “nanny” for our

youngest and delighted in knitting all his clothes. Then one day she met our monthly

window-washer and decided he was just the man she wanted as a husband. There were no

problems meeting him because there he was regularly once a month looking through all

the windows! The romance proceeded in very much the same way May’s evolved, even to

Arthur’s meeting with the window-washer. Arthur, in his study and in his formal dress

suit, talked with the window-washer. He had been dating Hilda for over a year and his

intentions were to marry her, he said. In due course they held the ceremony and lived

happily together ever after!

In May 1950, we received an invitation from the Lord Chamberlain to attend an afternoon

presentation garden party for the Queen at Buckingham Palace. American Embassy wives

were encouraged to attend a rehearsal to learn how to curtsy properly and, finally, that

very special day arrived. Dressed in our best bib and tucker, with the ladies wearing hats,

we were off to Buckingham Palace. We were reminded to use “ma’am” to any question

the Queen might ask us. That was not hard for me to do. When I was evacuated from

China with our daughter, Mary Stuart, I settled in my aunt’s home in Richmond, Virginia.

She insisted that Mary Stuart always respond to a question with the “ma’am” prefix, and

it became such an obsession with the child that I found her one night sitting straight up in

bed, with eyes closed, saying “ma’am” over and over again in her sleep. My home is now

in North Carolina where it is even more a part of the Southern way of speaking.

The Queen was gracious and charming, but it was Sir Winston Churchill who was of

most interest to me. As he departed, I was immediately behind him. He was alone and

seemed so apart from us... so solitary.

Arthur served under three ambassadors during our seven years in London. There were

times when Embassy wives met regularly with the wife of the Ambassador at Wingfield

House, the official residence. On one occasion, we were asked to assist in a tea party for

lords and ladies, dowagers and what-not. We attended a sort of rehearsal before the tea so

that we would know just what to do and how to act. On the assigned day, we arrived

early, and when the guests arrived, we were all smiles and conviviality. I had no time to

see how the others did, busy as I was in seeing that the ladies I happened to be with had

their tea and cake and that the conversation flowed smoothly. The tea party didn’t last

long, and I was glad when it was over. What was my surprise to be told by the

Ambassador’s wife that we had been of little help and that she was very disappointed in

us! She never asked us again to help her out with a tea party, for which we were duly

thankful!

This same lady seemed to have it out for me. Arthur and I agreed to a reception for John

Foster Dulles on one of his visits to London. As I remember it, we gave the party at the

Penfield’s house. I remember we had shrimp, because Arthur and I spent a couple of

hours shelling them. Everything seemed to go well until the end, when I suddenly was

aware that the Ambassador’s wife, Anne, Jim, and Arthur had left the room upstairs. The

Ambassador was still there, and so I went straight over to him and waited until he was

ready to go downstairs. We then went down together, and the Ambassador’s wife was just

getting into the limousine. I bade the Ambassador “goodbye” and thanked him for

coming, but I could not get her attention. The Ambassador then addressed her, “Mrs.

Ringwalt has come downstairs to say ‘goodbye,’ my dear.” There was no response, and

they drove off, leaving me feeling unloved, to say the least. I recovered!

One of the notable balls we attended was given at Wingfield House for the Queen. She

asked for an informal evening to meet some of the American staff. She wanted something

very simple where she could mix freely with everyone, but it just didn’t turn out that way.

Later I learned there was a party in her honor which was informal and which she seemed

thoroughly to enjoy. Princess Margaret arrived late at the party I attended and, in her

eagerness to tell the Queen something, forgot to curtsy. The Queen seemed amused.

We went downstairs where the band started up. Everything had been arranged

beforehand, who was to dance with whom and when. The Ambassador had the first dance

with the Queen, then Walton Butterworth [William Walton Butterworth], second in

charge with the rank of Minister, was to relieve him. After the first dance, the music

started up again, but no Minister! He was around, but he paid no attention to the

Ambassador’s desperate signals. I was dancing with Arthur and saw quite clearly what

was happening. The Ambassador was finally rescued when music started up for the third

dance and one of the Embassy secretaries, by pre-arrangement, appeared. I was not

surprised to learn several weeks later that Walton Butterworth had been transferred

elsewhere. His departure came as no surprise to anyone.

Halfway through his London tour of duty, Arthur was asked to serve as liaison with

someone of his same rank in the Soviet Embassy. He met quite regularly with his

counterpart and was careful to report all conversations to his superior at the Embassy.

Once or twice a month, the Soviet Embassy gave a reception when they showed

propaganda movies. We thought them dreadfully boring. On one occasion we gave a tea

party for those Russians we had come to know, and they seemed especially to appreciate

being in an American home. As the meetings progressed, Arthur became increasingly

suspicious that his informal lunches were “bugged” and he wanted out.

I look back on those evenings, looking at poorly produced movies, as an ordeal and was

delighted when we dropped out of the program.

A few days before Christmas, during our fourth year in London, our “mother’s help”

rushed upstairs just after seven in the morning and asked me to come down immediately.

On entering our diningroom, I took in at a glance what had happened. All of my silver

service set, which was a wedding present from my aunt in Richmond, was gone,

including the lovely sterling tray. There had been quite a number of robberies on our

street with no arrests. Everything stolen was immediately melted and unrecognizable. I

remember thinking, as I stared at the empty sideboard, that I should really cry. I could not

imagine anyone not crying in such a situation. I did manage to squeeze a few tears, but

beneath the tears I was conscious of a great sense of relief. No longer would I worry about

cleaning all that silver every ten days on our return to America someday to live. A great

deal was taken, and the burglars were never apprehended, but we did receive full

insurance coverage. We spent the monies in far more creative ways than in the purchase

of a silver service.

We had some delightful vacations while in England, and one of these was spent in the

United States. We had to leave our baby in London because of a polio epidemic in the

U.S. We spent one vacation in Ireland and another in Scotland, but never saw Wales, as

Arthur was recalled to the State Department just as we were planning it. In Scotland, I

remember we stopped at a small restaurant where there was a sign on the outside privy

above the shop, “one penny per pee.” My daughter, Mary Stuart, and I went into the privy

together and then proceeded to the small shop to purchase something. The rather

formidable owner prepared our bill with the statement that she had observed that the two

of us had gone into the privy together and she was, therefore, charging us two pennies.

We couldn’t argue back!

On our return to London, we attended the Coronation of Queen Elizabeth, getting up at 5

a.m. in order to claim our reserved seats in the Corps Diplomatique section. It was quite

unnecessary, for we could have come and gone at any time and, actually, a "mother's

help" working for a friend of ours was able to see far better than we did while pushing a

pram with baby along the main street. It was very exciting that on the very day the Queen

was crowned, Sir Edmund Hillary made it to the top of Mt. Everest together with Shirpa

Tensing, his carrier. Later in the month, a reception was given for the two of them which

Arthur and I attended. On entering the room where the reception was held, I was struck by

the noisy conversation, the smoke-filled air, and the tension occasioned by the very

presence of these two men. We were introduced to Sir Edmund who, to my surprise, was

smoking. He seemed distinctly ill at ease and out of place. Shirpa Tensing was then

introduced. He was quiet, comfortable, seemingly as much at peace with himself and with

us as he would be breathing the air of his beloved mountains. In all the turmoil, just to

shake his hand was to receive a sense of peace.

Toward the end of our assignment to London, many Civil Service employees were

transferred abroad for the first time instead of remaining in Washington, as was the

practice. I don't know how the men dealt with this new experience, but some of the wives,

most of whom had never been abroad before, found it extremely difficult. They had to

settle for English houses with no central heating, no washing machines, and endless steps

to climb with kitchens often in the basement. Some of them, try as they might, found their

situation frustrating and unrewarding.

Mrs. Aldrich, the Ambassador's wife, arranged for those of us who had been in London

for some time, (and I was one of the oldest residents there), to meet on a regular basis

with these newcomers who might wish to talk with us. I met with this group on several

occasions before Arthur was transferred back to the State Department. I remember one

young wife saying that she could not possibly have lived through the full, demanding

days if she had not set her alarm each morning for 5 a.m. in order to spend half an hour

alone in the quiet and the peace. It was her only way of collecting herself to deal with the

many problems she knew lay ahead of her that day. There were others who suggested less

drastic means, but it helped greatly just to meet together and talk about it. For those

women who had never been abroad, I think it was a difficult adjustment to make for

questionable returns.

During my last two years in London, I became acquainted with a blind woman who lived

alone in a small apartment only a few blocks from where we lived. We met through Mrs.

Aldrich, wife of the Ambassador, who received a letter from Bunny Hibberd asking for

someone from the Embassy to visit her. Since I was her closest neighbor, I arranged to

take her to my home to lunch. After a few visits, we met for lunch every week, and

afterwards I took her to a Red Cross Center where there were activities for handicapped

persons. Bunny became totally blind when she was serving in an administrative position

during the intensive bombing of London. I greatly admired her courage and

independence. She had a pleasant, clean apartment which she took care of entirely herself.

During the War, she met American women and liked them. Mrs. Aldrich came to lunch

one day at my house to meet Bunny and enjoyed it greatly.

During my last year in London, I became a volunteer for CARE, an organization of

volunteers working with problem children in the schools. Every child entering the first

grade was given a complete physical. I attended these physicals once a week and was

referred by the doctor to certain of the families to visit. In the beginning I was always

accompanied by my wonderful supervisor who insisted on riding her bicycle while I

drove my large car. I learned so much from this supervisor that I draw upon her wisdom

constantly even with the 30 years that have passed since then.

Surprisingly, I was effective in accomplishing changes in many hardcore families where

others had failed due, in large part I feel sure, to my being “different”, American, and

perhaps because my large car put the fear of God in them! So much time was put into my

training that it was hard to tell my supervisor when the time came that I was leaving.

Arthur had already been transferred to Washington several months earlier, and so I had to

take on the responsibility of packing and leaving. It was not an easy task, but we returned

by boat, not by plane, and those few days at sea were delightful and restful.

After a few months in the U.S., Arthur was transferred to his last post in Kingston,

Jamaica. We had never lived in the tropics, and although it was an interesting experience,

I was quite ready to leave some two years later. Memories and impressions:

-Running up and down the stairs of our residence on Long Lane at the foot of the

mountains in Kingston, during the first two weeks.

-Walking up and down the stairs the third week.

-Holding onto the railing when going up and down after the third week.

-Overwhelmed with the responsibility of being the wife of the Consul General,

and by the attendant duties, expectations, and decision that went with the position.

-Effacing sense of utter inadequacy after a visit from the beautiful wife of John

Hepler, head of the International Cooperation Administration, who called on me one

afternoon... gorgeous, serene, like a picture out of Vogue. She left me with pages and

pages of lists of food and household items to order from a wholesale place in the United

States. She seemed so lovely and adequate, and there I was feeling utterly inadequate and

scared half to death. I fingered through the lists, not having a clue what to order or how

much. This was two or three weeks before Arthur was officially Consul General, since we

came to Jamaica early so that our son, Christopher, would not miss too much school.

We were staying, actually, in a cottage nestled in an orange grove attached to a hotel near

the Consulate residence. A short distance away was a swimming pool which was very

enjoyable and relaxing until I heard over the radio there and repeated many times that the

new Consul General, his wife, and seven year old son had arrived in Kingston that very

morning to take over the duties of David Maynard who was departing.

-The difficulty of adjusting to the continuous, exhausting relentless heat, always

summer, with little change of seasons.

During the winter months, it did turn a bit cooler and I enjoyed seeing poinsettias growing

everywhere during the Christmas season. We had a large spruce from Canada in our

living room where our German shepherd, Rex, spent all day every day until we finally

threw the tree out. It seems that the dog was imported from Canada many years before we

came and was cared for by the succession of families living in the house. The smell of the

spruce stirred in him nostalgic longings which we were never able to satisfy. I was glad

his end came while we were there, because he and I became deeply attached. He died of

cancer in my arms a few months before we left. He was a faithful and loyal watchdog,

and when Arthur went away on his frequent trips to visit and report on other islands, he

always slept outside my bedroom door beside Singh, our Indian Number One.

Singh kept his machete, which he had been using all day to cut our grass, close beside

him, and I felt quite safe for myself and our son, Christopher in the room adjoining mine.

One scary afternoon, both Christopher and Rex disappeared. We suspected they had

climbed down the hill to the gulley below us. There was a rough road that went along the

gulley or “bush”, as it was called, and led all the way to the north shore. Counterfeit trade

in meat and drugs and all kinds of nefarious dealings took place in the “bush”. We had

forbidden Chris ever to go down there. Rex, in accompanying him, was taking on a great

risk, since Jamaican dogs are trained to guard only their own piece of property and never

to go off of it.

Almost two hours passed, and we were about to call the police when we heard a terrible

dogfight on the D’Costa’s land adjoining ours. Rex had led Christopher home, and

Christopher, recognizing the landmark, had, in his eagerness to be home, climbed up the

hill leading to his neighbor’s house. The D’Costa watchdog was waiting. We had a hard

time pulling the two dogs apart.

Sometimes, when we came down to breakfast, we saw little pigs or donkeys, chickens

and geese wandering around our garden, and would chase them back down to the “bush”.

Sometimes an old white horse appeared on our large front lawn, ridden by a most curious

character. Attached to his person and his saddle were all kinds of pots and pans which

clattered and banged together as he galloped his horse up and down and around and

around. On his second visit, I sent him word through Singh that his horse was tearing up

our lawn and that he was trespassing. He sent back word that there was no other level

spot where he could ride since he lived in the mountains, I called him the White Knight

and put up with his episodes until he had a stroke and landed in the hospital.

We had a difficult time persuading office secretaries, who were sent to Kingston, to

remain. They became anxious and afraid from stories they heard about violence and

drugs. They felt trapped and isolated. Some of them stayed for only a few days or weeks

and then were transferred back to the States. I remember one time, when Arthur was away

on one of his inspection trips, that his new secretary arrived. She was so disturbed by

some of the things she saw and heard that I invited her to stay with me until Arthur

returned and we could work out something for her. At the Residence, which was isolated

as all the staff went home at night, except for Singh, she was even more frightened, and

nothing could dissuade her from leaving. On his return, Arthur had to start ail over again

in his search for a new secretary.

From the day we moved into our new house until our departure, we ,had constant callers

who left calling cards. I was expected to return their courtesy visits, but early in our stay I

gave up all attempts to keep up. I needed to be home for Christopher when he arrived

back from school, and there was no way of doing both. We went out many evenings and

there was constant entertaining of local people and others who came and went on visits to

the Island.

Shortly after our arrival in Kingston, we celebrated a Fourth of July party for the

diplomatic corps and all Americans. I met countless times with the wives of our Consular

staff to make sure everything would go smoothly. We hired a little donkey saddled with a

pannier on each side filled with rum. Christopher led the little donkey around, offering

our guests a drink which his older sister had prepared at the last minute with too much

emphasis on the rum, as we discovered later. It is not surprising that the party was a huge

success, the best ever given on American Independence Day we were told by many who

attended. We were still happily celebrating when it became dark and we quite forgot to

haul down the flag. Later in the night, we were reminded by one of the departing guests.

At about the same time, I discovered that some of our staff had passed out from the

leftover rum in the little donkey’s panniers. A memorable evening!

To my surprise, I discovered there was race prejudice in Jamaica. I was told that 98

percent of the Jamaicans are related to black people somewhere in their ancestry. The

color of the skin seemed to have no bearing in the world of politics or business, but is

reflected socially. Our son, Christopher, had a close friend who was black, and one hot,

August afternoon they wanted to go swimming. I telephone a neighbor, who graciously

offered her pool at any time we wanted it. She said it would be quite convenient, but the

boys soon came home. Obviously something unpleasant had happened. Singh, our

Number One, brought us a message from the lady of the house asking that we never again

allow a black person in her pool! It was a distressing situation for both Christopher and

his friend.

One of my most pleasant memories of Jamaica was a weekend we spent at a sugar

plantation on the west coast. Our host sent his private plane to take us to his house which,

in Jamaican vernacular, means the “big house” where the master and mistress live. It was

as if we stepped back into the 19th Century except that the workers were not slaves, but

free men and women well paid and cared for. One wing of the house was set aside for

guests who were treated royally and given complete privacy.

During the afternoon, we were shown all over the plantation by our host, first viewing the

sugar cane and sampling the sugar in the stalks, on through the whole process of

transformation into molasses, brown sugar, and finally white sugar. As we moved from

the first to the last stage, there was much discussion of wages, unions, and time-off, it was

obvious that the sugar workers held the owners of the plantation in great respect and that

there were channels for grievances to be expressed. We were very impressed, for we had

heard bad things about the procedures at some of the big houses.

We left Jamaica in 1959 when Arthur retired from the Foreign Service. My memories of

the blue sky, the war, sunlit days, and the ever-welcome breeze that came up at night are

as vivid and fresh today as they were those 26 years ago. Our stay in Jamaica was a fitting

end to my life of adventure and challenge as the wife of a Foreign Service officer.

***

BIOGRAPHIC DATA

Spouse: Arthur Runmey Ringwalt

Spouse Entered Service: May 17, 1928 Left Service: February, 1959

You Entered Service: 1938 Left Service: same

Status: Widow of FSO

Posts:

1928-1932 Shanghai, China

1932-1934 Peiping, China

1934-1937 Yunnanfu, China

1937 Georgetown University, Washington, DC

1938-1941 Peiping / Tientsin, China

1941-1943 Department of State, Washington, DC

1943-1945 Chungking, China

1945-1947 Department of State, Washington, DC

1948 National War College

1949-1956 London, United Kingdom

1957 Department of State, Washington, DC

1957-1959 Kingston, Jamaica

Spouse's Position: Consul General

Place/Date of birth: Tokyo, Japan; May 20, 1907

Maiden Name: Teusler

Parents (Name, Profession):

Mary Stuart Woodward, housewife;

Rudolf Bolling Teusler, Founder and Director of St. Luke's International Hospital,

Tokyo, Japan

Schools (Prep, University): National Cathedral School, Washington, DC

Date/Place of Marriage: Richmond, Virginia; June 25, 1938

Profession: Housewife

Children:

Mary Stuart Reeve 2/14/39

Arthur Ringwalt 8/18/42

Christopher Lee Ringwalt 10/12/49

End of interview